Begin at the Beginning, Obviously
by The Glaring Sockmonkey
Summary: The Malfoys don't like the Potters. But why is that? Thats all 7 year old Draco wants to know, and a house elf named Fane has the answers. It began with his great grandparents Zayden and Ambrosia, because when Bradley Potter comes into their lives Ambrosia falls hard. She already has a life, a child, but Potters what she's always wanted. Ever wonder how Draco and Harry where relate
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Begin at the Beginning

It was not a good day at the Malfoy Residence, not that most days were very pleasant, but today was particularly awful. While the outside world was fresh and beautiful with the essence of spring filling the air, inside a terrible trouble was brewing. The young Draco, only 7 years of age, had asked a seemingly innocent question about muggle bicycles. It was, unfortunately, not well received. At all.

The Malfoy family had been seated outside, enjoying caviar and jam on toast. Watching their peacock's strut about was one of their favorite things to do during breakfast. Draco's question was voiced with a lightness and easiness that only a child could have, he hadn't the slightest idea that what he was saying was practically pureblood blasphemy. It goes with out saying that he received a royal dressing down.

"A pureblooded wizard never concerns himself with the frivolous tendencies of muggles, Draco dearest," His mother had said, half condescending, half shocked. His father had been… much less forgiving.

"A true Malfoy would never ask such an idiotic question," Lucius began. "If you ever want to amount to anything in this world Draco, you must learn that muggles are a waste of space and time. Anything they create is both pointless and unnatural. As a Malfoy you must learn your place in life, and that place is above the magic less beings. Many wizards and witches that have shown great potential have been ruined because they allowed themselves to get attached to the filth of humanity. I will not allow you to become like them! You must keep your dignity, keep yourself pure, and stay to the path of a proper pureblood.

Look at the Potter's for example. A perfectly fine family, pure, rich, famous, they had it all, but they were fools, they let themselves be led by their hearts and by Dumbledore." Here Lucius paused to sneer for a moment, as if saying the mans name corrupted him somehow. He continued. "They strayed from the path Draco, James Potter married a mudblood and now he and his wife are dead. Killed by our very own Dark Lord. That's what happens when you become sympathetic to the lesser beings, you get murdered.

Which is why, and you will obey me Draco, you must learn to be a Malfoy!" and on that note, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy both stood with a flourish, leaving the room, and their distraught son, in their wake. Draco stood slowly. His legs, he noted dully, felt like jelly, just as they always did after his father shouted at him. He tried and failed to hold in the tears dancing at the brims of his eyes. Malfoy's don't cry, or at least proper ones don't, but Draco was only seven, so we'll forgive him just this once.

Even though his father had just told him what he had done wrong, Draco still didn't fully understand. Why couldn't Malfoy's be curious? Why couldn't he ask a simple question? Sometimes, or most of the time, it was very difficult to be who he was. There was a great deal of things he had to remember to do, certain mannerisms every Malfoy was meant to possess that he simply did not yet have. He wasn't sly enough, he wasn't ambitious enough, Draco just wasn't cruel enough to be a Malfoy, and sometimes he was perfectly ok with that.

Draco walked silently out into the garden, past the red roses and the drooping lupines, through the swarm of lavender high bumble bees, and up the marble steps into the Athenian styled greenhouse, complete with stone pillars and immaculate fountains. He stepped over a potted plant and sat down in the middle of the room. Draco liked being surrounded by the flowers that took up residence in the greenhouse. He liked how heavily the air sat on his chest, thick with exotic aromas and humidity. He liked how no matter where you looked there was always something new to see, whether it was an Asian tree that stood so tall it dominated the entire room, or a delicate flower with so many vibrant colors it was like somebody had taken a hummingbird's feathers and used it to decorate the petals. Most of all Draco loved the silence, it was the kind of silence that wasn't silent at all, but was instead vibrating with life and energy. It made him feel better.

All right, that's a lie. He still felt terrible, and even though he smiled as he looked around the room, silent tears still streamed down his face in angry torrents. He was being dreadfully foolish, he thought, dreadfully foolish indeed. Malfoy's don't cry. It just wasn't something they did. Draco sighed lightly and said seven words he would never say again,

"I don't want to be a Malfoy."

Fane was not your average house elf. For one thing he only ever talked in third person when around the Masters. He knew quite well the way a sensible being was meant to speak, and he _was_ a sensible being, no matter what anybody said. He could also read, which was why he preferred not talking like the others, it sounded rather stupid to him, and no interesting character ever spoke like that in his books. Along with a great number of other unnatural qualities, Fane loved to tell stories, and not just any stories, ones he knew the Master would forbid. Those were the ones that deserved telling, so those were the ones he told.

Fane was also incredibly wise, though he tried very hard to hide it, because house elves were not supposed to be wise. They weren't supposed to be much of anything. But it was because of this intelligence that he knew the moment the youngest Master walked in the door, that he was about to tell a story unlike any other he had ever told and far greater than any he would ever tell.

The house elf sat atop of a high cupboard and simply watched the child for a time, and it was because of this that he heard quite clearly what his young Master had to say. Fane, with his large ears working with him, just barely caught the quiet sigh and whispered words. It broke his little heart to hear his Masters pain, and he felt terribly disheartened that even at such a fragile age the young Malfoy knew he had been born into something horrific. There is nothing sadder, Fane thought solemnly, then a child who has barely seen the world, but has seen enough of it to know that he does not wish to be a part of it.

He climbed carefully down from his perch and treaded lightly towards his Master, careful to keep his steps light. Finally he stopped in front of the child who, with his head hanging so that he was looking at the ground, had yet to see him. Fane awkwardly cleared his throat and spoke,

"Does the Master be needing anything of Fane?" By the way Draco's head had snapped so violently up Fane knew he had surprised his Master, he was surprised how much that thought amused him.

"How long have you been there?" Draco asked evenly, obviously trying to school his alarmed features.

"Not long I'd be supposin' Sir, Fane had just been waterin' the lilies when the young Master came in." Fane squinted his eyes slightly as he looked over at the flowers he had in fact been watering moments before his Master had appeared. "Master looked as though he'd be needin' some helping so Fane came to assist." He felt his face split into a smile, which the young Master returned slightly.

"I'm not so sure I need anything Fane, at least not anything you would be capable of giving me." Draco's voice was hesitant, as though he was afraid of speaking to the elf. Fane didn't blame him, the Master of the House, Draco's father, discouraged any kind of civil conversation between the family and the servants. He could be very intimidating, and very cruel, when it came to how he "handled" the house elves.

"Well Mr. Master, Sir, Fane reckons you could be needing some cheering up, and Fane knows just the thing to do it!" He grinned brightly when he say the young Master turn to look at him interestedly. Hook. Line. And. Sinker.

"What do you have in mind?" The Master said.

"Fane thinks you be needin' to hear a good story."

"A Story?"

"Not just any story, Fane knows a story every Malfoy Child should know. The story of why the Malfoy's be hatin' the Potter's so much."

"What!" Draco whisper shouted excitedly. This day already was much better than any day he'd had so far, not even half way through and he was going to learn the answer to a question he'd had practically since birth!

"That's right Master Draco, it's the story of your Great Grandfather Zayden Malfoy, his wife Ambrosia Malfoy, and Bradley Potter. Bradley Potter was Harry Potter's Great Grandfather, you know." Fane knew that the young Master was completely captivated by what he was saying, and it was only going to get better.

"Well go on, tell the story Fane!" Draco sat more comfortably and leaned his chin on one hand, eyes staring intently at his little storyteller.

"Alright, alright! Now, where to begin?" Fane rubbed his chin in contemplation, then, quite suddenly he began to smile. He knew what he was doing, and he would do it well. "The story starts 110 years ago, in the spring of 1877. Zayden and Ambrosia Malfoy were holding their annual spring ball, and anybody who was considered a somebody was there, even a certain Bradley Potter…"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

The story starts 110 years ago, in the spring of 1877. Zayden and Ambrosia Malfoy were holding their annual spring ball, and anybody who was considered a somebody was there, even a certain Bradley Potter. It's neither good nor bad that the young man saw fit to show up that day, we wouldn't have a story if he had stayed home with his newly acquired wife, but maybe having no story would have been better than what happened.

Zayden and Ambrosia were celebrating their 5th anniversary, which was the reason they held the spring ball to begin with. Though their marriage had been arranged, they got on well enough, and had had a child together, Abraxas Regius Malfoy. He was the spitting image of his father, and though they had hoped he would inherit Ambrosia's beautiful hazel eyes, he had instead ended up with Zayden's icy blue/grey orbs. It mattered not anyhow; the color suited young Abraxas who, even at the age of four, was showing signs of a quiet and recluse nature, keeping himself to himself and asking for things he only desperately needed.

He was the perfect heir to the Malfoy fortune, and though they expressed it less often than most parents, Ambrosia and Zayden loved their son more than Malfoy's were supposed to love anything. Abraxas was the saving grace in their relationship, as Zayden had a tendency to "accidently" forget he was married whilst out with his companions and would often come home with the morning light, looking rumpled and tipsy. By some unspoken agreement the two never spoke of what Zayden got up to with any willing bar maid that passed by, it was his right as the head of the family to do as he pleased. Even if it was not proper. The Malfoy's, though traditional by default, were often largely improper.

In return, Zayden allowed Ambrosia to buy anything and everything she desired. From elaborate tapestry's of great wizards and witches past, to eloquent gowns that swept the floors, attracting attention with the vibrant jewels adjourning the front and dark colored laces covering the back. Ambrosia was aware of her great beauty, though she did not often flaunt it, and enjoyed nothing more than occasionally putting on a new dress for a ball and winking at all the married men she knew fancied her. And really, it's on one such occasion that our story begins.

Ambrosia looked forward to the spring ball every year, it was one of the only times she was allowed to casually socialize with people in an environment she found comfortable, the Malfoy Family ball room. With its domed roof, which was actually just a enormous sky light, you could see a million stars and constellations. The full moon, strangely, shined down through the exact middle of the dome. It lite the room with an unearthly glow, casting shadows upon the face's of the guests. Ambrosia looked around the room, taking in the fact that there was close to 400 people crowded into the room, dancing in close proximity with each other and generally having a grand time.

It was not unusual for so many people to attend the ball, but many of them, she realized with a jolt of shock, were new to her. Why that man over there! Surely she would remember him? He was large and unpleasant looking and it appeared as though he was trying to make his way through the crowd towards her. Oh dear, she thought, feeling downtrodden; this is going to be very nasty. Finally, after much effort, the man stood huffing and puffing in front of her. He held up his hand, as he stood bent over, catching his breath. Eventually he stood straight and cracked an obnoxious smile, revealing putrid yellow teeth and blood red gums.

The man seemed to be in his late thirties, and he had most definitely not aged well. He must have weighed close to 300 pounds and his thin, stringy hair was already waning. He wore a dark red suit with enormous shiny buttons running down the front of his shirt, just barely covering his many pounds of fat. How unfortunate for those poor buttons, Ambrosia thought scathingly, they must try and contain such a pig of a man.

The unnamed man reached down and plucked Ambrosia's hand from her side, pulling it to his lips and kissing it none too delicately. As he dropped it Ambrosia made a mental note to thoroughly wash it as soon as the ball was over. Grinning in what he must have thought was a seductive way; the man spoke in a humorously high-pitched drawl,

"My, my how ravishing you look tonight, Ambrosia darling! Why you easily outshine us all with your delightful dress! What a pity Mister Malfoy is not here to appreciate you." The man seemed to think he was being sympathetic when he said stated the last pleasantry, but Ambrosia thought it just made him sound like an even bigger creep than he already was. He was wrong any way, her husband was attending the ball and she opened her mouth to tell him so when she realized her spouse wasn't actually in the ballroom anymore.

Looking around, Ambrosia tried to remember when she had last seen Zayden. Suddenly she recalled seeing him flirting with some young women, who, along with Zayden, were now missing from the ball. Probably off somewhere doing unmentionable things in one of the guest bedrooms, Ambrosia thought with a sneer. The man seemed to have come to the same conclusion as she had, moving closer he said,

"He doesn't appreciate you, does he? There are so many willing persons ready to appreciate you." He moved closer still, whispering into her ear, "_**I**_could appreciate you."

Ambrosia reared back in disgust. Never had she been so repelled all her life! How could this man, this _despicable_ man, think she would lower herself to his level! She didn't even know his name for Merlin sake! So unhinged by the man's suggestion, Ambrosia didn't even realize someone was approaching until they were right behind her.

"Excuse me," said the person behind her. He tapped her shoulder lightly, turning her around so that she was looking at him, "But may I have this dance?" Ambrosia nodded quickly, anything would be better than then being here.

As the mysterious stranger led her out onto the dance floor Ambrosia took a moment to look up at him. His hair, which was a dark raven color, fell gracefully into his ocean blue eyes. He was tall and skinny, though not in an unappealing way, and was attractively muscular. His lips were shaped into a half smirk, which Ambrosia found very appealing. He began to speak,

"I thought it might be a good idea to save you from that creep, I didn't like the way he was looking at you. I'd tell you to pick your admirers better, Mrs. Malfoy, but I know that's impossible. Even for someone as pretty as you." He flashed her that same half smirk as he said this, eyes twinkling in amusement. Ambrosia thought numbly that it might have been the most amazing thing she had ever seen. She realized that she didn't know who he was, and that it might be a good idea to find out.

"Well, while I do appreciate your help, my dear knight in shining armor, I believe it may be necessary for me to know your name so that I may thank you properly." If the widening of his eyes was anything to go by, her "knight" seemed to have realized he had forgotten to introduce himself.

"Sorry love, the names Bradley, Bradley Potter, and it would be my everlasting pleasure to be your knight." Here he bowed low, hair almost kissing the floor, before straightening up and joining in with Ambrosia's laughter. This, they both thought, could be the start of something interesting, and for the rest of the night they danced and talked. Falling hard, and falling fast, they didn't know that in a few months time they were going to wish they had never met.

A/N I wanted to upload this yesterday but it wasn't finished. I know it's not perfect but I'm only 13 so give me a break. Any way, I really love little Draco so the next chapters going to be about Fane and him, I think I'll just switch back and forth between Draco's time and Ambrosia's time each chapter. Hope you've enjoyed the story so far. If you have any suggestions then tell me in a review please!

Live long and prosper,

Socka

REVIEW THE STORY, GET A TINY DRACO!


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